


Words Like Fire

by Superfast_Jellybitch



Series: Good Omens Shipping Roulette [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Congrats guys you did it, Degradation, M/M, Name-Calling, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, enemies to lovers: speedrun edition, this time with 30 percent more emotion, you convinced me to make it kinkier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfast_Jellybitch/pseuds/Superfast_Jellybitch
Summary: Aziraphale's always fantasized about telling Gabriel off. Who'd've guessed that Gabriel had the same fantasy?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My excuse for this is I'm horny for Gabriel.

He hadn’t meant anything by it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d definitely meant something by it. With one more rude comment on his hobbies from a supervisor he’d never respected Aziraphale had reached his tipping point. To put it plainly, he’d snapped. 

“Gabriel, shut your stupid mouth before you lower the IQ of the whole damned neighborhood.” 

Aziraphale had almost instantly regretted saying it, and had to physically fight the urge to clap a hand over his mouth as he waited to be smited for his transgression. When nothing happened, Aziraphale hazarded a glance over his shoulder. The archangel was looking at him with his head cocked to one side, eyes wide with surprise and the slightest of grins on his face. It was a look Aziraphale was greatly worried by. 

“ _What_ did you just say?” 

“Gabriel I didn’t-”

“Say it again.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” 

Gabriel took a step closer, firmly setting himself within Aziraphale’s personal space in the way he was so very good at. He was close enough that the tassles of his scarf brushed against his waistcoat, and Aziraphale could smell his cologne- an old fashioned scent. Like frankincense and fallen leaves and something quite spicy. It made his head swim in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“Say it again.” 

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, still quite unsure of whether or not this was a trap designed to get him to admit guilt. Even if it was, perhaps it’d be better to go along with it rather than put up resistance. He reaches through his fear and doubt to find the frustration that had gotten him into this situation in the first place. 

“I said _shut up_ , you stupid git.”

“Again. Tell me how you _really_ feel, Aziraphale.”

Gabriel’s hand came to rest on the desk behind him, effectively pinning Aziraphale against it. Something that was definitely not anger flashed behind his violet gaze, and rather suddenly, things clicked into place. Gabriel was _enjoying_ this. That affected Aziraphale in ways that he hadn’t even thought himself capable of, lighting a fire deep inside him that seemed to burn with the fury of 6,000 years of silence. He wrapped a hand around Gabriel’s throat, pushing him off of him and into the bookshelf behind them, thumb pressed against his windpipe in a way that was certain to be uncomfortable. 

“You’re utterly intolerable. Every time I think you can’t get any more dull, you open that big dumb mouth of yours and prove me wrong. You’re an egotistical airhead, and the only thing you’re good for is looking at.” 

Gabriel _whines_ . Really and truly _whimpers,_ and it sends a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. He smirks, putting just a little more pressure on Gabriel’s throat and watching him squirm and grasp at Aziraphale’s wrist. He could hardly believe this was happening- that for once he had the upper hand over the Archangel- and he was intent on milking it for all it was worth. 

“You _like_ this, don’t you? You _want_ me to call you names and tell you just what a _bad angel_ you are.”

“Please?”

The plea is raspy and strangled, and if he’d had the equipment necessary for the task, Aziraphale might’ve come then and there. He closes the distance between them, kissing Gabriel hard enough that he’s certain one or both of them will leave this with bruised lips, tongue tangling against the Archangel’s sloppily. Gabriel is _not_ a good kisser, but Aziraphale can’t bring himself to care. This wasn’t about skill, or kissing, or even sex, really. This was about letting go of 6,000 years of tension. Aziraphale moved a thigh in between Gabriel’s legs, smirking against his lips when he felt the evidence of his effect on him pressed hard against the leg of his trousers. He tears himself away just a little reluctantly, gripping Gabriel by that stupid scarf of his and using it to drag him up the staircase. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom.”

“This place has a bedroom?”

“It does now.” 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, temporarily snapped out of the haze of the moment by Aziraphale’s admission. He works his tie free of Aziraphale’s grip, but he keeps pace with the smaller angel. 

“Aziraphale, we’ve talked about frivolous miracles before.” 

“I suppose you’d rather I just take you right here on the floor, then?” 

Aziraphale delights in the way Gabriel blushes, muttering under his breath about ‘being difficult’. He reaches back for his hand, pulling him into the newly miracled bedroom and slamming him against the door. They’d picked up their frantic pace in an instant, hands roaming, caressing, groping, undoing buttons, tugging at coats, till both of them are standing quite naked. Aziraphale rakes his nails down Gabriel’s chest, relishing the hiss he lets out. 

“Oh I am going to do _wicked_ things to you.” 

“That’s not very angelic of you, Aziraphale. I might have to write you up.”

He’s teasing. Aziraphale knows it. But some distant part of him takes it seriously, wondering if this wasn’t a test he was failing miserably. He drowns that out, grinding his hips forcefully against Gabriel’s and listening to him moan so sweetly, nails digging into Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“Write me up, if you’d like. I’m sure heaven would love to hear how they’ve given such a high position to such a wanton little slut of an Archangel.” 

“ _Aziraphale…_ ”

Aziraphale reaches between them, hand curling around Gabriel’s dick and stroking it firmly. Gabriel bucks up into his hand, chasing the friction. He turns to kissing down his neck, sinking his teeth just a little too hard into all the most sensitive places, leaving bruises he was just a little disappointed wouldn’t be visible beneath the high collar Gabriel always wore. The soft grunts and groans he let out were music to Aziraphale’s ears. He’d never imagined Gabriel would be so damn vocal. Then again, he’d never imagined anything like this would happen in the first place. Gabriel speeds up, thrusting more erratically into Aziraphale’s hand, searching for release. Aziraphale jerks his hand away, his own dick twitching against Gabriel’s muscled thigh at the frustrated whimper that he lets out. 

“Oh darling, you really _must_ be thick if you thought I was going to let you finish just yet. I’ve only just gotten started with you.” 

The words are purred into his ear, insults coming out sweet as honey, and Gabriel doesn’t seem to be able to respond beyond a desperate little gasp. Aziraphale hadn’t thought himself capable of liking Gabriel, but this was beginning to change his mind. He was much more tolerable naked and, more importantly, quiet. Aziraphale gripped him by the shoulders, walking him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat obediently. He wasted no time in postioning himself between Gabriel’s thighs, using one hand to push him into the mattress and the other to pull his hips closer. 

“I think I like you much better like this, Gabriel.”

Aziraphale mused aloud as he pushed two lube slicked fingers into his supervisor. He might get another lecture about frivolous miracles, but it’d be well worth it for the way Gabriel’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, clearly trying to keep quiet. 

“So quiet. So _obedient_. I suppose you’re good for something after all, hm?” 

Gabriel clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling a high pitched noise as Aziraphale curled his fingers, hitting his prostate dead on. Aziraphale chuckled low at the sight. It wasn’t how he envisioned finally getting back at Gabriel, but it certainly beat any form of fighting. Besides, the Archangel had seemed so desperate for it. Perhaps he was doing them both a service. He scissored his fingers a bit, stretching him enough to fit a third in and marveling at the way Gabriel shuddered around him. He was practically aching with the thought of being inside him. Of stretching him out and wringing more of those choked moans from his lips. His fantasies were interrupted by another raspy plea. 

“Aziraphale, _more_.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t take orders from you like this.”

“PLEASE! pleasepleaseplease…”

“There’s a good little tart.” 

Oh it felt so _good_ to hear Gabriel’s voice begging for him. Even better than sliding into his tight, wet heat. Although that was breathtaking too. He slid forward just a little too roughly. A little too quick. Gabriel yelped, tensing around him and tearing the bedsheets. Aziraphale can’t help but drop the facade a little to coo apologies over him, stroking his cheek. Gabriel smacks his hand away, glaring up at him. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Hurt me, bruise me, bully me, and don’t you _dare_ apologize for it.”

“Gabriel-”

“Please.”

“...Fine. But we _will_ talk about this later.” 

“Yeah, _laaaater._ ”

Gabriel punctuated his statement by rolling his hips, pushing Aziraphale deeper into him. He can’t help but buck into the sensation, snapping his hips up into him. Gabriel stifles a moan, and that’s all the encouragement Aziraphale needs. He pushes Gabriel’s knees to his chest and fucks into him with abandon, wringing a choked scream from him. The bedsheets tear beyond repair as Gabriel’s fingers twist in them, and Azirphale winces a bit. He was glad he wasn’t properly attached to them. Still, he moved a hand to catch Gabriel’s wrists, pinning them above his head forcefully.

“Watch it! You’re tearing my sheets, you wretched thing!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Go- da- _Aziraphale_ …”

Something about the way Gabriel moaned his name- so _needy_ \- sent a shudder through Aziraphale. He was getting close embarrassingly quickly. Aziraphale wrapped his free hand tightly around Gabriel’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts and trying to hold on as long as he could despite the loud, wrecked moans he was drawing from the Archangel. If he wasn’t mistaken, there were now tears in Gabriel’s bright purple eyes. Any worry he might’ve had about it was chased away by orgasm, hips stuttering against Gabriel’s as he filled him. Gabriel followed moments later, spilling over his hand, violet eyes crossed in pleasure. And yes, those were tears. Aziraphale released his wrists to wipe them away before collapsing on the mattress beside him. 

“Thank you.”

“Excuse me? For what?”

Gabriel rolls over, facing him with a genuine smile. Aziraphale doesn’t think he’s ever seen one on him, and any regrets he’d had about what he’d just said and done flew right out the window with it.

“For... _that_. I really needed it.”

Aziraphale kisses him again. It’s sweet and slow and everything that he’s never bothered to give Gabriel. The Archangel wrapped his arms around him, returning it as messily as he had the first one. When they pulled away, Gabriel nuzzled against his shoulder, and Aziraphale nearly balked in surprise. Gabriel had only been here to check in on him. It was supposed to be a short visit, and he’d already long extended it. Furthermore, he’d never once expressed any sort of affection for Aziraphale. But if he needed it, Aziraphale was more than willing to provide, and he drew him closer. 

“We still need to talk.”

“You’re fine. I’ll overlook all the extra miracles. Glowing reports upstairs. Not that anyone’s keeping track, after the whole apocalypse debacle.”

“Not about that, although I do appreciate it.”

“Oh.”

Gabriel stiffened in his arms. Aziraphale could tell he’d entered dangerous territory, but it was necessary. 

“Why the…. Name calling?”

“I dunno. It’s nice to let go once in a while, you know? Let someone else do the bossing. Besides, it’s _sexy_.” 

“I see.”

“Can we do this again?”

“I don’t see why not. Although, I would like a bit of warning next time.”

“Okay.” 

Gabriel snuggled closer to him, and Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his forehead. He’d never admit it, but it had been quite therapeutic for him as well. He’d always fantasized about telling Gabriel off, he’d just never imagined Gabriel would’ve had the same fantasy. 


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale knew this was a bad idea. Knew that he should've let this be a one time arrangement, and pretend it had never happened. But it had just been so damn _good_ the first time. He couldn't stop thinking about it; Gabriel beneath him, submissive and willing, begging to be used, begging Aziraphale to call him names. Aziraphale had never really considered himself a dominant person, but it had awakened something in him that would not be satiated. Not with just one brief sexual rendezvous, at least. So against his better judgement, when Gabriel had walked into his bookshop, Aziraphale slammed him into a wall, savoring the painful-sounding thud of Gabriel's body hitting the plaster. He looked down at him with wide eyes, expression stuck between surprise and arousal. It was just what Aziraphale had wanted to see.

"Here's what's going to happen, Gabriel. You're going to follow me to the back room, you're going to take off this ridiculous suit, you're going to get on your knees, and you're going to pray that I have mercy on you, do you understand?" He said, calm but firm, pressing Gabriel against the wall just a little harder.

The Archangel nodded, his pupils dilating in lust, and Aziraphale accepts it as consent. He removes his forearm from where it had been crushing Gabriel against the wall, making a show of straightening his sleeve as he turned and headed towards his back room. Whatever business Gabriel had been here on was long forgotten, replaced by a need to be handled just a little too roughly and the promise that Aziraphale was going to satisfy it. The minute the door closed behind him, Gabriel started in on the second part of his orders, shrugging out of his suit jacket, toeing out of his oxfords, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his belt, dropping his slacks, till he stood in nothing but his underwear and his mismatched socks.

"Don't stop. You're finally getting to the good bit." Aziraphale commanded from the chair he'd sat himself in to enjoy the show.

Gabriel peels his socks off, and then his briefs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them down. He hasn't had time to consider genital configurations yet, still caught up in the whirlwind of being abruptly ordered to strip, and is woefully flat in the front. Aziraphale frowns, chin in his hand contemplatively.

"Knees, Gabriel." He reminded, a hint of irritation in his voice.

He watched him sink to his knees, hands folded in his lap. He was the very picture of submission, and Aziraphale gets to his feet, standing before him. Almost immediately he decided that he very much liked Gabriel from this angle- looking up at him, small and obedient, rather than towering above him. He reached forward, running a hand through the Archangel's hair only to use it to violently yank his head back, making him yelp. 

"It seems you've forgotten something." Aziraphale tutted, nudging Gabriel's crotch with his foot just a little more roughly than strictly necessary. "Though I can't say I'm surprised. I'm honestly impressed you can remember how to breathe, for all you use that empty head of yours."

"I-I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting-"

"I'm sorry, did I ask to hear your excuses?"

"No."

"'No' _what_?" Aziraphale prompted, digging the toe of his shoe into him in a way that was sure to hurt, genitals or no.

"No, sir!" Gabriel gasped, taking a good guess at what Aziraphale had been looking for.

"Good. Now _fix it._ You're of no use to me like this."

"What uh.. what do you want from me?"

"I hardly care what you put between your legs, slut. It'll make no difference to me. I intend to have you either way."

Gabriel closes his eyes, making an effort at equipping himself with genitals. When he opens them again, there's a long, thick cock throbbing between his legs, and Aziraphale gives him a satisfied smirk. It's a very nice cock, and it's almost a shame it's going to spend the entirety of their session completely neglected. Almost.

"Very well." Aziraphale said, unbuttoning his own trousers. They were constructed well before the invention of the zipper and he'd kept them in pristine condition. "Open up."

Gabriel does as he's told, opening his mouth wide, and it's a sight that makes his head swim with lust. Aziraphale grips himself through his underwear, stroking himself to full hardness. He pulls his cock free, sliding it past Gabriel's lips. Almost immediately, those lips wrap tightly around his member, and Aziraphale groans, thrusting forward and gagging him with it. He doesn't pay it any mind, tightening his grip in Gabriel's hair and fucking his face thoroughly.

"Oh, you can do better than that, I think." Aziraphale groaned as Gabriel gagged around him again. "You're just being dramatic."

He pulls Gabriel forward so that his nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, making his violet eyes water. Tears fall down Gabriel's cheeks, but he doesn't make any effort to stop him. In fact, he's still trying to give his very best head, despite his inability to keep up. Aziraphale feels his orgasm building, and debates cumming down Gabriel's throat, but decides against it, pulling him off his cock with an obscene popping sound. Gabriel pants, eyes watery, lips red and swollen.

"Really. You're being so very difficult." Aziraphale admonished. "I'm not inclined to reward such poor behavior."

"I'm sorry Aziraphale. I'll be good, I promise."

"It's too late for that. All fours. Now."

Gabriel obeyed without further question, getting on his hands and knees, head bowed. His neglected cock bobbed between his legs, heavy with arousal. Aziraphale sank to his knees on the hardwood floor, getting in position for the next phase of his plans. In a swift, sharp movement, he brought one thick-fingered hand down against Gabriel's toned ass, watching the flesh redden. Gabriel jumped and yelped, and Aziraphale's grin widens.

"Stop that." He ordered. "Keep quiet and take what you're given, whore."

He spanks him again, and Gabriel lets out the smallest of sounds, lip between his teeth, trying his best to keep quiet. Aziraphale hated how much he loved that. How much it turned him on to watch Gabriel struggle under him, trying his hardest to obey his every order. How powerful it made him feel, to make an Archangel do his bidding. Aziraphale kept at it until Gabriel's rear is positively raw from his abuse and he was unable to stop his cries of pain.

"That's enough of that, I think." Aziraphale said decisively. He summoned a tube of lubricant from the ether.

Aziraphale pressed a cold, slick finger into him, letting out a slight chuckle at the way Gabriel gasped. He's uncharacteristically gentle, opening him up slowly, making him feel good. Gabriel whined, pushing back onto his hand. It was all part of his plan. He worked in a second finger and then a third, curling them expertly, pulling choked noises from Gabriel's holy lips.

"Aziraphale...." He whined, bowing his back, presenting himself.

"What is it?" Aziraphale said, sounding almost irritated.

"Are you gonna-"

"I'm going to do as I damn well please."

"But-"

"If you want it, you'll have to beg for it."

"P...Please?"

"Hm? Please what?"

"Please fuck me, Aziraphale.

"Very well."

Aziraphale lined up and thrust in, not bothering to be gentle with him any longer. Gabriel cried out with the shock of it, tensing around him and drawing a pleasured groan from the Principality. He was always so damn tight. It shouldn't be possible for an Archangel to have a body so deliciously sinful, so perfectly tuned to take every ounce of abuse Aziraphale dished out upon it. He fucked into him roughly, driving him into the wood floor, knowing for sure they'd both have bruises on their knees from the force of it. Beneath him, Gabriel writhed and moaned, tears threatening to fall from his eyes once more, but a deliciously obscene smile plastered across his face.

"Are you enjoying yourself, dear?" Aziraphale couldn't help but taunt. "You love debasing yourself like this, don't you? You wanton thing."

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes..." Gabriel babbled senselessly, cheek pressed against the cool floor, ass in the air.

"Such a greedy little tart." Aziraphale punctuated this statement with another sharp slap to his ass, moaning at the way it made him tighten around him.

He wasn't going to last much longer at this rate, and mercifully, he angles his thrusts so that his cock drags across Gabriel's prostate with every movement. The Archangel's gasps and moans turn to screams as Aziraphale pounded him thoroughly into the shop floor, his own cock beginning to twitch between his legs. He worked a hand down to stroke himself, but it was quickly smacked away.

"Ah-ah" Aziraphale chided. "You'll cum on my cock, or not at all. It shouldn't be that hard, for a whore like you."

And indeed it wasn't, for no sooner had Aziraphale demanded that than Gabriel was tensing around him, cock twitching and spilling onto the back room floor, crying out Aziraphale's name like a prayer. It was absolutely lovely, and had the Principality cumming into him in a matter of seconds, hips flush against his ass and nails digging viciously into his hips. He pulled out, watching his own seed dribble from Gabriel's debauched body and onto his floor in the most obscene display he's ever seen.

" _Heavens_ , Gabriel." He exclaimed, tucking himself back into his trousers and buttoning them back up. "Look at the mess you've made of my beautiful floor! I've had this shop well over a hundred years now, and this floor has _never_ been in such a state! I demand you clean it at once."

Gabriel raised a shaking hand, clearly intent upon miracling the mess away, but Aziraphale grabs him by the wrist, twisting his hand behind his back roughly enough to be insistent, but not enough to hurt.

"No, I think not. You know how upper management feels about frivolous miracles, Gabriel. I'd hate for you to get a nasty memo like the ones you send me. Best think of something else."

Gabriel looks at him in surprise- as though he can't believe what Aziraphale is asking of him- but when the Principality's gaze showed no hints of humor, he obliged. Gabriel turned around, sank even lower to the floor, and hesitantly drug his tongue through the mess, eyes never leaving Aziraphale's, searching desperately for his approval. And how could he deny him that? He absolutely couldn't. Not when Gabriel, who wouldn't even go to lunch with him for fear of "Sullying the temple of his celestial body", would lick his semen off the floor of the back room simply because Aziraphale had told him to. He reached a hand out to comb affectionately through his hair, before using his grip to pull him off of the floor and into his lap.

"Well done, my dear." He cooed, rubbing comforting circles against Gabriel's bare back. "Very well done. You're absolutely marvelous."

"We uh. We have to stop meeting like this." Gabriel chuckled into the fabric of his vest, pulling himself further into Aziraphale's lap.

"Yes. You're probably right. An Archangel and a Principality- I can't imagine this would go over well with the higher-ups." Aziraphale sighed, wrapping his arms securely around Gabriel's waist and nuzzling into his shoulder.

"They'd probably just assign me to a new Earthly Agent. Switch me with Michael or Uriel or someone."

"Ugh. How perfectly ghastly."

Gabriel pulled back, looking him in the eyes with surprise. Wait, no. It wasn't surprise. It was _hope_. Fragile, quiet, and barely concealed _hope_. The expression and the intoxicating cocktail of post-coital hormones cause a dangerous stirring in Aziraphale's heart.

"You don't mean that. You'd be happy to get me off your back." He said quietly.

"I really wouldn't." Aziraphale said matter-of-factly. "Of all the Archangels I've encountered, you're the most tolerable. And besides, it's rather been the other way around as of late, hasn't it? That is to say, _I've_ been the one on _your_ back."

"Yeah. I guess you have." Gabriel said with a half smile, before burying his face against Aziraphale's jacket.

Aziraphale just holds him there, letting him play with his blonde curls, or nuzzle against him. Letting him take whatever he needed from him, because it was the very least he could do after the very unholy things he'd put him through. Letting him make-believe whatever he needed in the moment, because as much as he liked to tell himself that this wasn't going to happen again, Aziraphale was already thinking of "next-time". And lord, that was scary. The thought that his will was not strong enough to keep himself from giving into this temptation. Aziraphale closed his eyes and pulled Gabriel even tighter to him, chasing away his train of thought with the smell of Gabriel's cologne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I made it kinkier.


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale hadn't so much as looked at the matte black gift bag or its contents since he'd purchased it a week ago. The items themselves were hardly anything to be ashamed of, but what he'd planned to _do_ with them made his rosy cheeks even rosier. Oh but it was far too late to back out of this now. Not when they'd gone so far already. Not when he'd spent far too much money at his neighbor's shop. Not when Gabriel was due here any minute. Would he _ever_ be used to this? Unlikely. A knock on his shop door snapped him back to reality. Gabriel never knocks. That could only mean-

"Angel!! How's it hanging?" Crowley called out, sauntering through his shop door without waiting to be invited in. The knock had always been more of a warning than a request for permission, anyway.

"Crowley!! Er.. what- what are you doing here?" Aziraphale jumped, struggling to hide the bag in the open drawer on his desk.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm dropping in on my _best friend_ , since I haven't heard from him in a few weeks." The words were said with just enough venom to make Aziraphale feel even guiltier.

"Ah. Yes, of course. Terribly sorry about that dear, but I'm afraid I haven't the time to chat at the moment. Perhaps we can do something this weekend, but I really _must_ insist you-"

"What, got a big date with your bookshelves you can't cancel? What's the rush, angel?" Crowley pried, sauntering forwards and peering into the open drawer on Aziraphale's desk.

"If you must know, I have a...business arrangement." Aziraphale fibbed haughtily, slamming the drawer shut just a moment too late.

"A business arrangement that involves vibrating panties?" Crowley said flatly.

"......Yes?"

"You're a shit liar, you know that?"

"Yes. I'm sorry Crowley, but I really do not have the time for this. Perhaps we can do something later this week?"

He didn't need to be able to see Crowley's eyes to know that the demon was glaring at him with burning intensity behind his dark sunglasses. it wasn't as though he'd been _trying_ to hide this from Crowley- wait, no, that's really precisely what he'd been doing. He wasn't an idiot. He knew about Crowley's feelings for him and had for quite a while. Logically he knew he'd have come clean about this eventually, but somewhere deep down he'd been hoping that he wouldn't ever have to address it. For an angel he really was rubbish at talking about feelings.

"Right. I think I'll just. Leave you to it then." Crowley said turning on his heel, his expression unreadable.

"I'll see you later, then?" Aziraphale called after him, feeling rather as though he'd broken something quite precious.

"Sure. Later."

Crowley disappeared out his shop door, leaving Aziraphale to wring his hands anxiously. It wasn't as though he'd meant to hurt him, really. It was just another unfortunate side effect. He didn't have much time to dwell on those thoughts, however, because almost as soon as the door had shut it was being opened again and Gabriel's hulking form was blundering through it, tripping a little on the door frame as he did so. Oh what a grave he'd dug himself.

"What was that about?" Gabriel asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Oh, it's nothing you should trouble yourself with." Aziraphale sighed dismissively. The little bubble of excitement that had been building in him before he'd been interrupted had burst, and now all that was left was shame. "He's just upset with me again. It happens once in a while."

Although he couldn't help but feel as though he'd really deserved it this time. Aziraphale sighed and plopped tiredly into his desk chair. This had been a mistake. That's all it had ever been and all it would ever be if he allowed it to continue. He had just opened his mouth to tell the archangel his company would no longer be required for the evening when Gabriel sat himself upon his desk and interrupted him.

"What, is your _other_ boy toy jealous now?" He scoffed, rolling his violet eyes. "I don't even take up that much of your time."

"He isn't my lover, Gabriel." Although, perhaps at one point, had Aziraphale not been so cowardly, he could have been. "We're friends, and that's all."

"O-oh." Gabriel stuttered. He seemed just a bit pinker than usual. "Sorry I just assumed that...well nevermind."

The silence that fell between them was awkward- as though neither of them knew just what to say to amend the situation. It was quite unusual for there to be silence between them in the first place, as Gabriel almost always had something to say. Whether or not it was something worth saying was something else entirely, but Aziraphale would have preferred listening to him blather on stupidly to sitting in silence with him. At least then he'd be distracted.

"We could reschedule if you don't want-"

"No." Aziraphale said decisively. Perhaps he wasn't as enthused as he'd been at first, but he most certainly desired that distraction, and it would be a shame to let the tickets go to waste. "But we'd best get a wiggle on if you don't want to miss the opening number."

"Opening number of what?" Gabriel asked, head cocked to the side inquisitively.

"Why, 'The Sound of Music', of course." Aziraphale grinned, shoulders wiggling triumphantly as he watched Gabriel perk up.

"But you hate 'The Sound of Music'?"

"Er...well, yes. But if I recall correctly, you're a fan of the show, and I do love supporting the local theater, so...two birds one stone."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a crush on me." Gabriel teased, hopping up from the desk.

"It's a good thing you know better, then, isn't it?" Aziraphale smirked, handing him the black gift bag.

He watched intently as Gabriel peered inside, grin widening as his face visibly reddened once more.

\--------------------------

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" Gabriel hissed breathlessly.

His head had lolled onto Aziraphale's shoulder shortly after the last time he'd kicked up the intensity on the remote controlled bullet vibrator that currently was pressed against his newly-minted clit, and Aziraphale was using this position to run his fingers through his hair. This was a far more interesting show than the one happening on the stage outside their private box, yet Aziraphale did his very best to appear focused on the Von Trapps. Appearing disinterested was part of the game, after all. With a flick of his thumb, the vibrator slowed to almost nothing and Gabriel let out the quietest of whines at the loss of sensation.

"Hush. I'm trying to watch the show."

"You don't even _like_ 'The Sound of- Oh!"

Gabriel gasped as Aziraphale abruptly dialed the thing back to full speed, pressing his legs together and squirming in his seat. Aziraphale sat stoically forward, the only indicator that he was enjoying the display being the erection tenting his trousers. Gabriel's hand had inched up to wrap around it, palming him through the fabric. Aziraphale debated swatting it away, but ultimately decided he was enjoying it too much and discreetly spread his legs to allow him better access. The device was on high enough now that he could hear it above the music, a well placed miracle being the only thing keeping them from getting caught. He slows it down again- gradually, this time- listening to Gabriel's whispered objections.

"Damn it, Aziraphale!" He whimpered. "Would you just- please!"

"Oh dear, are you going to start begging me already? We haven't even reached intermission."

"Please please please please-"

"No." Aziraphale said firmly, turning the vibrator all the way down once more. "Not yet. But since you're so eager..." He unbuttoned his pants, pulling himself free of their confines. "Go ahead and make yourself useful."

He's expecting a hand to curl around his cock, and nearly jumps out of his seat when it's a pair of lips instead, sucking gently at the head. Teasing. Oh it's just what the doctor ordered. Aziraphale had a very difficult time resisting the urge to throw his head back and openly moan. But that would be breaking the rules. instead, he moved his hand to Gabriel's shoulder, nails digging into the material of his coat just a bit. He hazarded a glance downwards as Gabriel began sucking him in earnest, thinking to himself that that position cannot be comfortable before becoming overcome by the sensation. He rewarded Gabriel by turning the vibrator back up to full speed, delighting in the way it made him jump in his seat. The curtains closed, and Aziraphale barely had enough time to pull a dazed and lusty Gabriel off his cock and tuck himself back into his pants before the lights came up. Miracles could only go so far, after all. Especially when one was distracted. 

"Oh _come on!_ " Gabriel practically sobbed as Aziraphale turned the vibrator to a less audible setting.

"This is why you should've waited until after intermission." Aziraphale admonished. "I can't even take you off to the bathroom now, there will be too many people. I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait."

"I should've executed you."

"You tried that. It didn't work."

The 30 minute intermission seemed to stretch on for hours, and Aziraphale found his patience waning. He'd had plans to drag this on throughout the entire show, but now all he could think about was the moment he'd be able to slam Gabriel against a wall somewhere and have his way with him. He was positively certain from the way that Gabriel was bouncing his leg and routinely glancing at a watch Aziraphale couldn't recall seeing on him earlier that he was thinking the same thing. Finally, _finally_ people began making their way back to their seats and the lights went back down. He tapped Gabriel on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow, leading him out through the lobby and into the men's room. Aziraphale didn't even bother to lay claim to a stall, he simply slammed Gabriel against the marble countertop and worked both of their trousers down.

It was far from the most lengthy fuck they'd had, but good heavens did it hit the spot. That was the benefit to vaginas, he'd found. Self-lubricating. He worked a hand around to rub at Gabriel's clit, groaning at the way it made his walls tense around him. Just a few more thrusts and he was gone, spilling into him with a pleasured sigh, continuing to work him over with his hand until Gabriel tensed beneath him, thighs trembling, eyes crossed , and mouth hung-open in pleasure. With a wave of his hand, Aziraphale miracled away the mess, placing a quick kiss to the nape of Gabriel's neck.

"We ought to go back. It's rude to walk out during intermission." He said softly, rubbing soothing circles against Gabriel's back.

"Yeah...Yeah just let me find my legs again first." Gabriel chuckled against the counter.

The rest of the musical is about as miserable as Aziraphale remembered, and he sorely wishes he'd had the patience to drag out the teasing so that he wouldn't have to pay attention to it, but Gabriel seemed to be enjoying himself. Now that he was able to, he was completely focused on the production, humming softly along to every passing song. That dangerous stirring creeps its way into his heart again at the sight, catching him by surprise and taking root in his chest, where it blossomed into a true, genuine warm fuzzy feeling. Perhaps it was the lingering hormones, or perhaps he'd been wrong all along and this was no mistake. Perhaps this was exactly where they were meant to be. The curtains closed and the feelings stayed, following him out of the theater and into the crisp night air.

"This was fun. Thank you." Gabriel says, smiling down at him.

"You're quite welcome. I rather enjoyed myself as well. At least, until that end bit..."

Gabriel laughed then- a real, authentic laugh. It was a sound Aziraphale wasn't sure he'd ever heard, because if he had, surely he would've remembered how contagious it was. Surely he would've recalled the way it made his heart beat just a little faster and his cheeks grow just a little pinker. Acting almost on pure impulse, Aziraphale stood on his tip toes and leaned into him, kissing Gabriel softly across the lips. It's a brief gesture, for no sooner has he done it than strong arms are pushing him away as though he'd burned him. Aziraphale looked up, confused by the sudden loss of contact. Gabriel stood several feet away from him, the look in his violet eyes not dissimilar to that of a cornered animal.

"What the _hell_ , Aziraphale?!" He demanded, anger slowly covering up the fear that was there moments before.

"I apologize, I simply thought-"

"No, you didn't think!" Gabriel interrupted. "Look, I don't need your pity, Aziraphale!"

"It's not pity! Where on _Earth_ would you get that-"

"I don't need you making this out to be more than it is, either!" He snapped. "I'm not _Crowley_. I don't need you to _pretend_ like you care about me!"

That hurt. Any warm feelings he'd been feeling a moment ago were doused in the iciness of that statement. Anger welled up in him faster than he could control it, spilling over his face in the form of hot tears. His hands ball into pudgy fists at his side, nails digging sharply into his palms.

"I _don't_ care about you!" He shouted, no more capable of stopping the words coming from his mouth than the tears running down his face. "Not one single being in all of time has _ever_ cared about you! You're a heartless, artificial _bastard_ and the only thing you've ever been capable of is making others miserable!"

Gabriel stiffened, his mouth pressing into a thin, firm line, and Aziraphale knows that he's cut deep.

"Good. For a moment I thought you'd forgotten that." He said, voice uncharacteristically cold. "I'll see you for next month's review, and you better start taking it easy on the miracles. I can't keep making excuses for a bumbling renegade who can't be bothered to go to the cupboard and put a marshmallow in his own damn hot cocoa."

A crack of lightning and Gabriel was gone, leaving Aziraphale standing on the sidewalk alone. He wiped his tears away with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket before starting the walk home. After all, he wasn't sure he'd be allowed the luxury of miracling himself home, and he certainly wasn't going to be offered a ride in the Bentley any time in the near future. To make matters worse, a clap of thunder sounded throughout the air and the sky abruptly opened up, drenching him in a sheet of rain, and Aziraphale was no longer certain that God wasn't somewhere Upstairs laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy when Aziraphale hits rock bottom he just grabs a fucking pickaxe, huh?
> 
> Anyway, I should probably tell you now that if you came for Ineffable Husbands, this fic will not deliver. I love them as much as the next guy but this ain't that kinda fic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a crazy random point-of-view switch in this Chapter? Yes. Pay no mind to it, the answer is very simple: This fic and its companion are pure, unbridled self indulgence, and I have gone absolutely balls to the walls.

A knock at his usually not-present office door brought Gabriel out of his pile of paperwork, and he could nearly yell with frustration. Paperwork had never been easy for him. He just didn't have the head for it. Couldn't sit still and pour over boring miracle logs for hours on end the way Michael or Uriel could (then again, no being could focus on paperwork the way Uriel could.) As a result, Gabriel's office tended to be practically wallpapered in the stuff, neglected from centuries of "Later for sure." He'd just gotten into a rythm, too. Gabriel settled for tossing his pen to his desk just a little more forcefully than strictly necessary.

"It's open."

Michael stepped through his office door as though it were some great scandal, sure to close it tight behind her. Really he should've known this was coming. Michael always had a nose for trouble, and she had no qualms about sticking said nose in the affairs of others, so it was really only a matter of time before she slinked through his door. He was, after all, her proclaimed "favorite". Gabriel sighed and vanished his workload with a wave of his hand as Michael perched herself primly on the edge of his desk. There is a great pause before she speaks- one that's filled with a deep understanding of profane secrets.

"Well, you've certainly got a thing for the bad boys, haven't you?" She said without preamble, her stare piercing him.

"You're one to talk." He replied flatly.

Her grey-green eyes flicked to the floor for just a moment before meeting his once more with renewed vigor, her hands folded neatly in her lap. That was the drawback to being as close as they'd become over the millenia; they understood one another's weaknesses just as surely as they understood their own, and Michael's was her pragmatism. Still, Gabriel wasn't dumb enough to think he'd get out of this even if he was being an ass. But it sure felt good to go down kicking and screaming.

"All right, I earned that. But I'm not the one practicing self-sabotage like an infantile fool."

"I don't know what you're insinuating, Michael. The relationship between Aziraphale and I has been nothing but professional, and I have no intentions of doing anything untoward. Especially not after that absolute drama of an execution"

"Odd. I don't recall mentioning the Principality Aziraphale." She smirked, and Gabriel paled. "And I was not referring to your lack of professionalism, although you appear to be quite efficient at self-sabotage in that department as well."

Gabriel went silent, unable to find the words to defend himself. All that effort at putting on a good face, and he ended up ratting himself out immediately. If Michael's weakness was pragmatism, then his own was lack of foresight. He sighed, sitting back in his chair guiltily, eyes cast to some distant corner of his office.

"Oh don't pout. It's unbecoming. Besides, I'm your 'big sister'. I know everything."

"You 'know everything' because you're a busybody."

"You don't exactly make it difficult, you know."

"What do you want out of this?" Gabriel said in a frustrated monotone.

"Your happiness, of course." Michael said, eyes wide with surprise as though this had been obvious.

"You know what would make me happy? Being able to finish my reports."

Michael uncrossed her legs, sitting ramrod straight in a way that Gabriel instantly knew meant she was done playing games and truly meant business. He shrank back into his office chair, feeling quite small under even the gentlest pressure Michael applied to him. He'd seen her power before, after all, and knew that the graceful and professional shell contained a force that can decimate angels with a cold precision that would strike fear into the hearts of any being. 

"Gabriel." She said warningly. "I refuse to sit idly by and let you make the same mistakes I have. If what you and Aziraphale do makes you happy, you cannot just sit here in your office hiding from your feelings. He won't always be around to humor you."

"Well what am I _supposed_ to do about it then, huh?"

Michael stood as if to leave, before turning around and placing both of her hands on Gabriel's desk, crowding him in. She certainly made an intimidating picture, broad shouldered and imposing. She had changed since the apocalypse. They all had, really, but Gabriel seemed to notice it the most in Michael. She seemed more determined than usual, going about things as though she were running out of time- as though they _all_ were running out of time.

"You're _going_ to go down there and fix whatever you broke while you've still got the chance."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll never forgive you."

"Okay then." Gabriel sighed.

He knew Michael was right, even if he didn't want to admit it. An Angel like Aziraphale has plenty of other relationship prospects. Plenty of red-haired, sultry, demonic relationship prospects that Gabriel could hardly hold a candle to... Just thinking about it made him want to shrivel up and disappear. Fucking him was one thing. Gabriel could understand that. He knew he wasn't bad-looking, and he was certain that Aziraphale enjoyed the shift in power dynamic their relationship afforded him. It afforded them both necessary physical release. But anything more? Unrealistic. Unfathomable. Gabriel didn't _do_ relationships. There was too much to be put on the line. Too much at stake. Besides, even if this was something he was amenable to, there was no way Aziraphale could forgive him. The things he'd done...the things he _hadn't_.... Gabriel couldn't see why anyone would waste their time to make the repairs.

"Okay, I'm going. But only to prove you're wasting your time."

She smiled smugly at him, before pulling herself back upright, hands clasped neatly behind her back, the very picture of victory achieved. It made him feel rather like chucking his stapler at the space beside her head, but that wouldn't accomplish much of anything. It wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of leaving a dent in the wall- not in Heaven. So he just watched her go instead, letting her have whatever measure of satisfaction she gained from making Gabriel deal with his feelings.

\----------------------------------

For the first time since its invention, time seemed to crawl for Aziraphale. He hadn't realized just how much of his had been consumed by Crowley until they had fallen out. Evidently they were no longer on speaking terms, as the last time he'd attempted to telephone Crowley (after filling his voicemail inbox, of course) the demon had picked up the phone only to immediately hang it up. And of course, Gabriel was out of the question. They had both said some pretty nasty things and he couldn't be certain that he'd been forgiven yet. Still, all this extra time did have one particular benefit; it gave Aziraphale time to think.

And think he did, his mind running over the last few months, trying desperately to discern exactly where his fatal error had been. The conclusion that he drew was that his mistake was ever letting this torrid affair begin in the first place. Oh, but it had been nice at times, hadn't it? It wasn't just about the sex anymore, either, though that had been lovely as well. He thought back to Gabriel's head against his chest, of running his fingers through his hair, of the way his voice always softened when Aziraphale caught him off guard, of the soft smile that danced across his face as he'd watched "The Sound of Music", and realized that he'd enjoyed all of that just as much if not more than their more physically intimate moments. Of course, this was hardly a surprise. He'd watched humans swear to purely physical relationships only to develop feelings for one another for centuries, it only made sense that it would apply to angels as well. Being comprised of love, he supposed it came with the territory.

What Aziraphale couldn't seem to wrap his head around was _why_ this was so difficult for them. They were angels, for heaven's sake! Caring for one another ought to be second nature, yet even from the very beginning this relationship had been like walking through a mine field. Just a little too much tenderness and Gabriel would blow his damn head off. Perhaps it was the nature of their past. He and Gabriel had never truly gotten on well, though Aziraphale had been telling the truth when he'd said he found Gabriel to be the most tolerable of the Archangels. He'd always found Gabriel to be quite brutish and uncaring, and he was certain that the Archangel had a laundry list of reasons to dislike and distrust himself. But it seemed... deeper than that. Mutual animosity was one thing. It was easy to recognize, easy to understand, and could be mended with effort. The way Gabriel reacted to something as simple as a kiss- to even the barest suggestion of affection- was enough to convince Aziraphale that the problem was much more than a strained work relationship.

He was just sitting down with a cup of tea to rerun their last conversation in his head for the 14th time that evening when his shop door opened. The words 'I'm sorry, we're closed' died on his lips when he looked up to find Gabriel darkening his doorway, blue silk scarf twisted in his hands and purple eyes looking everywhere but at Aziraphale. He stood there, stark still, mouth slightly agape as words completely escaped him. Aziraphale wasn't expecting to see him again so soon, if at all, and he was simply unprepared. Before he had the chance to find his words again and say something clever, Gabriel was upon him, grabbing him by the lapels and kissing him hungrily. And what else could he do but kiss back? His arms wrapped around Gabriel's waist almost instinctively, pulling the taller angel flush against him and feeling the press of his already half-erect member against his hip. Gabriel whimpered and rolled his hips, melting into his touch. It was just enough to pull Aziraphale back to reality, and he moved his hands to Gabriel's chest, pushing him just far enough away to break the kiss.

"Gabriel....No." He sighed.

Gabriel sank to his knees, pressing his cheek to Aziraphale's thigh and looking up at him expectantly. It's sorely tempting, and Aziraphale almost gave in when Gabriel began pleading with him. Instead, he cupped Gabriel's face in one of his hands, running a thumb over his cheek. He almost denied him again, but then an idea struck him. If this is the only way Gabriel will let him near, he might as well take advantage. Aziraphale gripped Gabriel's scarf in his fist, using it to drag him off of the floor and walk him back to the armchair. He used the strip of blue silk to bind Gabriel's wrists behind his back, before nudging him into the chair with his knee. Satisfied with his work, Aziraphale climbed into the Archangel's lap and set to work, kissing his cheek and putting as much affection as he possibly can into the gesture. Gabriel stiffened beneath him.

"W-what are you doing?" He demanded, panic flitting across his features.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm communicating with you in the only way you'll allow me. Now _hush_ "

The kisses continued, each more gentle than the last, landing everywhere but Gabriel's lips. Eventually, his hands joined in, stroking through his hair, caressing the sides of his face, tracing circles against the cashmere of his turtleneck, until the Archangel is shivering beneath him, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Aziraphale, please... please don't. Let's just go back to-"

" _No._ " Aziraphale growled. "I _refuse_ to be the weapon you use to hurt yourself. Now I said _hush_ "

He peppered kisses along Gabriel's jawline, savoring the rough feeling of his stubble against his lips, inhaling the scent of his old fashioned cologne. Suddenly, he's aware of the fact that the cheek he's kissing has grown wet, and the shivering has turned to heaving. Aziraphale pulls back as though he's been burned, immediately vanishing the scarf. He's never seen Gabriel cry before- at least, not like this. It sends a white hot bolt of panic through him.

"Goodness! Are you alright?" He asked, doing his best to appear controlled.

Gabriel didn't respond, burying his face in his hands instead. He was shaking with the effort of trying to hold back, and utterly failing to do so at all. Aziraphale tried to push himself off of Gabriel's lap, but was stopped by a pair of muscular arms winding around his waist. Gabriel clung to him desperately, tears falling into his waistcoat, and the principality moved to stroke his back in soothing circles.

"I'm so sorry, my dear." He sighed. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

With the sound of tearing fabric and a gust of air, Gabriel's wings materialized, wrapping around them and surrounding Aziraphale's vision with light grey and iridescent feathers. He hasn't seen them since the war, and it took him by surprise. Taking a gamble, he moved his hands to gently rub the joint where wing met shoulder, and felt Gabriel melt into him further.

"I care about you, Gabriel." Aziraphale confessed. "I know you don't want to hear it, and I won't burden you by asking why, but I do."

"You _don't_." Gabriel choked out, breaking his silence. "You _can't_ care about me. Not the way I need you to."

"You can't know that." Aziraphale kissed his forehead again, surprised to be allowed to do so. "You won't even let me try."

"Because you don't need me. You have that _demon_."

"Gabriel, I _told_ you; Crowley and I are not lovers-"

"And I don't deserve it. I'm a heartless, artificial bastard and all I've ever been capable of is making others miserable."

Aziraphale winced at hearing his own vicious words thrown back at him, feeling it like a dagger to the chest.

"I shouldn't have said that, and I'm sorry I did."

"Why?" Gabriel chuckled hollowly. "It's the truth."

"No, dear." Aziraphale said, taking Gabriel's face into his hands so that the Archangel has no choice but to look him in the eyes. "It's not the truth. While, yes, you are a bit careless and you can be a right prick at times, you're so much more than your faults. I have seen you do good that no human could ever dream of, I have seen you show courage that no angel could match, and you, Gabriel, are _good_. You're deserving of love even if you don't feel like it."

"Is that what you're calling this?" Gabriel bit out sarcastically. "'Love'?"

"Yes." Aziraphale declared before pulling him into a kiss.

Gabriel doesn't run this time. He pushes back into it clumsily, desperately, and Aziraphale can't help but smile against his lips. This felt so much better than anything previous. It felt _right_. Aziraphale lets him slide his tongue past his lips, hands wandering once more, finding the tattered material of his sweater and vanishing it away. Their touches turn hungry, exploring one another in ways they hadn't dared to before. Aziraphale isn't sure when he lost his vest, but finds himself in his shirtsleeves nonetheless, with Gabriel kissing his way down his chest as he works the buttons loose. It's carnal, yes, but far different to every time they've fallen together previous. Aziraphale leaned back, hands braced on the arms of the chair to allow Gabriel better access. Purple bite marks blossom across his torso, up his chest, to the line where his collar meets his neck, till he's certain he must be an impressionist painting of hickeys. Shaking hands undid his trousers, sliding down the front to where Aziraphale would've had genitals, if he'd been thinking about it. Of course, once the problem's been brought to his attention, it's but a moment before Gabriel's fingers are tracing over slick folds. At least one of them has the sense to miracle his trousers away, though he couldn't say which of them had done it.

"Gabriel...are you absolutely certain you want to do this now?"

"Mhmm." Gabriel nodded against him, fingers beginning to circle his clit, toying with him.

That was good enough for him. Aziraphale unbuttoned Gabriel's slacks, pulling him out and lining him up with his opening, unwilling to wait any longer. He _needed_ this, beyond even the physical sense. Needed to be closer to him- as close as they possibly could be in physical bodies- to feel the press of Gabriel's weight against him, the drag of his cock inside him, the beating of his wings beside him. Aziraphale sank down onto him, savoring the pleasured whimper Gabriel buried against his shoulder. Gabriel's hands came to rest upon his hips, pulling him down onto him further, and Aziraphale lets out a shuddering sigh at the sensation. His arms wrapped around Gabriel's shoulders, dragging him closer as he rolled his hips, setting a slow, tender pace for their lovemaking. It was perfect, it was _reverent_ , it was...not enough. Gabriel hitched his legs higher, draping them over the armrests as he wrapped his arms around his waist to support him, allowing himself more room to thrust into Aziraphale's body. Distantly, Aziraphale was aware of the fact that he was being altogether too loud, but he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. It was too much, and he was positively lost to it, letting himself be washed away in the tide of pleasure coursing through him. He distantly felt himself tense around Gabriel, almost as though he were watching it occur to someone else rather than experiencing it for himself. His wings manifested in a flash of bright white, pushing his button down over the front of his face in their haste to get to this plane of existence. Gabriel followed him, muscles tensing, eyes closed tight. Aziraphale only caught a glimpse of his face from beneath the white linen, but it brought about that now-familiar stirring in his chest. Aziraphale allowed himself to collapse into Gabriel's shoulder, wings tucking close to his back as Gabriel's sheltered him once more. The archangel chuckled gently, plucking the shirt off of Aziraphale's head and smoothing it down his back between the joint where wing met shoulder.

"You're beautiful." He said breathlessly, hand playing in the downy soft white feathers.

"I love you." Aziraphale sighed in response, feeling Gabriel tense beneath him. For a moment, he was scared he'd run, but thankfully, he relaxed again.

"You shouldn't."

"I don't care." Aziraphale said stubbornly, clutching him even tighter. "I've had quite enough of 'should' and 'should not', and I'd much rather focus on what _is_."

".....Can I stay?" The question is asked so quietly and tentatively that Aziraphale almost doesn't catch it.

"I shall be very cross with you if you _don't_." Aziraphale huffed. "I went through a lot of trouble to put that bedroom in, it would be a shame to let it go to waste."

"Right. Of course." Gabriel said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Perhaps this relationship wasn't what _should_ have been, but Aziraphale had meant it when he'd said that he was through with trying to live up to others' expectations of him. What he had with Gabriel may not be above board, or even make sense, but it made him happy, and that was good enough for him. After the life they'd lived, Aziraphale supposed every angel (or former angel, for that matter) deserved a little happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all are wondering where Crowley's fucked off to and if he's coping, feel free to check out my companion piece to this, "Tears like Psalms". Url below. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814188/chapters/49474871


End file.
